AN: Hello all and welcome back! In honor of the New Year, I have decided to bless you all with a new chapter! Beta thanks to the lovely DorothyOz!

Now, on with our story ...

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam groaned and heaped curses on the person who served the bad chicken salad as he lunged for the bucket beside his bed in the SGC's infirmary. His stomach was empty, but the dry heaves kept him doubled over just the same. His stomach relented and Cam flopped back onto the sheets. A shadow fell across his bed and he glanced up into the irritated face of Brigadier General Jack O'Neill.

"Mitchell, if you didn't want to go with me you could have said so."

Cam groaned again. He'd been looking forward to the Antarctica trip. It had been over a year since the battle and he'd been hoping to get to talk to his savior. "I'd love to go with you, but I think Doctor Lam might hurt me if I try."

Jack grimaced. "Yeah, I make it a point to never mess with doctors. The big needles are scary." He patted Cam on the foot. "You get better. I don't wanna hear that you've been slacking off."

"Not me, Sir." Cam crossed his heart. "Scout's honor."

Jack snorted. "Try again and I might believe it. I'll get a pilot when I get to McMurdo."

Cam almost recommended Sheppard but thought it might look a bit strange. O'Neill had pushed and gotten DADT repealed for the SGC, but he didn't want to mess up Sheppard's career.

"Have fun!" Cam called as Jack headed for the door.

Jack gave him a single digit gesture of regard then walked out the door, Cam's laughter trailing him down the hall.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Jack O'Neill hated Antarctica with a passion. The place fucked with him every time he came within its grasp. This time was no different. His pilot, a Major John Sheppard, was very skilled and did a thorough inspection of his copter before they left McMurdo. That alone was impressive as many of the pilots he'd rode with over the years in various places did a cursory check then climbed in and took off. This guy definitely took his flying seriously.

His estimation of the major rose when he got the guy to tell him about the birds he'd flown. F-16, Pave Hawk, Pave Low, Cobra, Blackhawk, Osprey, and so on. Sounded like he'd flown everything he could get seat time for, which made him wonder why the guy was out here on the ass end of civilization. He made a note to check later. If it weren't anything too serious, he'd have Sheppard on a flight to Colorado.

The smelly stuff hit the spinning blades while they were en route when the outpost announced that a drone was live and seeking targets. The major rose several notches in his esteem when he out-maneuvered said live drone. Footwork that fancy deserved a reward, so he upped Sheppard's Security Clearance on the spot. The barely hidden look of appreciation proved him right in thinking he'd never been past the outpost's tiny mess hall.

Daniel snagged him at the bottom of the elevator and he barely had time to tell Sheppard not to touch anything before he was out of sight. Next thing he knew, he's being yanked out of his meeting with Daniel, Weir, and McKay to go to the Control Chair. Jack paused as he entered the area. Sheppard was sitting in the Chair looking very bewildered. Jack was confused too. The Chair was fully reclined and giving off as bright a glow as it did for Jack himself, possibly even brighter.

"I thought I told you not to touch anything?"

"S…sorry, Sir. I … I just sat down." Sheppard said.

"Major, think about where we are in the solar system." McKay snapped out.

Immediately, a very detailed map formed in the air above the astounded pilot's head.

"Did I do that?"

McKay, Weir, and Daniel started throwing questions at the poor guy who'd just become their favorite toy. One enterprising scientist pulled out a video camera to record the information the Chair was providing them.

Jack shook his head as he walked off, ignoring the plea for help that Sheppard had quickly sent his direction. Served him right to play light switch for a few hours for sitting in the damn chair.

An hour later he understood why Sheppard was at McMurdo. He'd disobeyed orders and went after another pilot, Captain Jared Holland that had been shot down. He returned three days later carrying a dead body and barely conscious. After he had been treated for his injuries and dehydration, he was called before the Disciplinary Board. He walked out with his rank intact, an Article 15 black mark on his record, and orders for McMurdo to waste away until he had time served or grew tired of frozen dinners.

Weir latching onto him and asking him to talk to Sheppard told him how bad she wanted the guy. He promised he'd talk to him and did so once they were back in the chopper. He regretted giving Sheppard an ultimatum, but his attitude had rubbed Jack's fur the wrong way. When they landed, Sheppard gave him the answer he'd known was coming, which was a yes. The kid had seen the writing on the wall. If he didn't step through the Gate right now, he'd spend the rest of his career playing taxi driver and Jack saw too much of himself reflected in Sheppard to let that happen.

"Look, I know I pushed ya a bit, but it's for your own good. You have too much skill to be flying taxi service to a bunch of scientists. I was in a similar position several years ago, looking at the tail end of my career. General Hammond did to me what I'm doing to you. He kicked my ass until I stopped feeling sorry for myself and got back on the horse." He reached up and slapped Sheppard on the back of his head. "This is me kicking your ass. You'll have your new orders within the next 48 hours. You'll be on detached duty to the outpost until the expedition leaves."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

"Huh, don't thank me yet. You'll probably be cursing me after you spend a week with McKay and the rest of his minions playing light switch. But," he waved his hand at the sky above them, "it'll all be worth it once you're out there."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

For John, the weeks flew by. He spent so much time in the Chair that he swore it was getting a dent from his butt. When he wasn't in the chair, he was usually with Miko Kusanagi or McKay activating Ancient devices. He'd decided to play dumb and keep his mouth shut for the time being, but it was hard when Kusanagi and McKay started throwing equations at each other and would get the math wrong. Oh, his fingers itched to correct the white boards, but he refrained. Time enough to make friends later.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Strolling through the halls of Cheyenne Mountain seemed surreal. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined being there. Even Sumner's disapproval wasn't enough to dampen his enthusiasm. Standing in the Gate Room waiting for the dialling sequence to start, John wondered whatever happened to that pilot he'd rescued.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Cam released a deep sigh as he trudged through the Stargate. They'd encountered a nest of Lord Yu's Jaffa and it had taken awhile to clear them out. He was halfway to the infirmary when he noticed how clear the halls were. "Huh, the Expedition left already."

"Your powers of observation continue to amaze me Cameron Mitchell," Teal'c said.

"Hey, I'm tired and we're in safe territory, so give me a break."

Teal'c moved and Cam found himself against the wall.

"Complacency can get you killed, Mitchell."

Cam struggled but was unable to break Teal'c's hold. "Alright big guy, you win. I'll prop my eyes open a bit more and stay alert."

"That is all any of us can do." Teal'c intoned as he released Cam. "And the life you save by doing so may not be your own."

Later in his quarters, he called up the base locator to find his hazel-eyed savior. He thought he'd seen the guy a couple of times over the last few weeks, but every time he got close he had vanished. By going through the archives, he'd finally gotten the guy's full name and rank – Major John Sheppard. Last time he looked, which was a couple of months ago and a few days after O'Neill's visit, Sheppard was still listed as being stationed at McMurdo, but his status was blank. He'd heard Sheppard and O'Neill had a close call with a drone so maybe O'Neill had transferred him to the outpost. If he'd been reassigned, it meant the poor fella was spending most of his time deep in the ice instead of in the sky.

This time, he got a different answer. When he called up McMurdo, he found out that Sheppard was no longer there. He put Sheppard's info into a full database search and was rewarded with a hit. Sheppard was now listed as being in Colorado at Peterson Air Base. Cam was heartened until he looked at the status block which read E7A. E7 was the status for those that served at the SGC although, in the official documents, it was for deep space telemetry. E7A was new though and had been put in place for the Atlantis Expedition.

Cam cursed. With the possibility of the trip being one way, he might never get to find out if his first impression was the right one or if his gaydar was on the fritz.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Stepping through the wormhole into another galaxy was way beyond cool. Looking down John noticed a series of markings on the floor in front of the Stargate. Based on the splash of the wormhole on Earth, he presumed that the markings delineated a safety zone. The moment he moved beyond the Gate, he'd felt a hum start in the back of his mind. He paced further in and the lights came on. John paused, startled by the suddenness. Seeing that no one was up top yet checking amongst the shrouded consoles, John headed that direction, McKay a half step behind him. The moment his foot touched the first step of the grand staircase, lights in the steps and in the upper gallery came on. The consoles lit as he neared them, the screens turned on without a touch as if his presence alone was enough. The more things came on, the stronger the hum got until it was like a song or a partially muffled conversation. If he'd had the time to focus on it, John felt he could have made out words.

Alas though, his time grew very constrained. The trip to Athos went well – until the Wraith showed up and stole a bunch of people including Sumner and Teyla. The argument with Weir went as he expected it. The looks McKay started giving him after he computed the possible number of combinations for the six symbols Ford brought back were thoughtful and made John feel like he'd done a trick. Killing Sumner to stop the Wraith Keeper from gaining the location of Earth insured that John would have little free time in the future.

Later that evening, John was standing at the rail looking out at the alien ocean far below, his thoughts drifting, when an image of the pilot he'd rescued demanded his attention. Dark hair, blue eyes, firm jaw, and a mouth that could be serious or laughing in a heartbeat. After handing Mitchell over to the docs at the event site, John hadn't seen him since, but it was like they shared a connection. If he ever returned to Earth, he'd have to look the guy up and see if the connection existed.

Turning, he drifted away from the merriment and headed for the quarters he'd picked for himself. Many of the others had selected rooms with balconies and he could've as well. The room he chose had a beautiful view of the city and was at the end of a side corridor. No one lived near him so he had privacy. The suite wasn't enormous, but it had a big shower. The shower was his objective at the moment. The door opened with a thought, which was so cool. He tossed his jacket in the corner soon as he stepped through the door with his shirt soon following it.

He stopped to toe his boots off and shimmy out of his trousers and boxers. A detour to his backpack uncovered his toiletries. His liquid soap and bath pouf came out, the rest went on a shelf that extended from the wall at his desire. Another thought had hot water gushing from the shower heads. John stuck a hand in to test it and it was perfect. A whisper of sound at his elbow heralded the opening of a hidden door in the wall. John opened it and found what he presumed were towels. They were thinner than Earth towels but seemed to be very durable, especially to have lasted over 10,000 years.

John stepped into his steaming shower and lost himself in the mechanics of bathing, letting the stress of the last two days flow down the drain with the dirty water. Nothing could rid him of the horror of having shot his CO, but it had been a mercy killing. Sumner had welcomed it; John had seen the approval in his eyes.

Still on edge, John knew he needed release to knock the rough edges off his mood. He leaned back against the warm wall of the shower and took himself in hand. A few strokes and he was hard, but he needed more than touch to get off. He cycled through his usual suspects, but a set of blue eyes and a square jaw kept intruding. Giving in, John visualized the blue eyes, dark crew cut hair, and the large hands. He imagined those firm hands on his cock, stroking him from root to tip then playing with the sensitive slit while fingering his balls, pace quickening to bring him to completion. He opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed as he shot his load and left a pearly trail along the opposite wall.

He cleaned up and shut the shower off. He dried his hair first then the rest of his body. After pulling on an old t-shirt, his boxers and an old pair of sweat pants he curled up on his short bed and dropped off to sleep, memories of blue eyes dancing through his dreams.